


Photographs (If Only I Could Go Back)

by ironxprince



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Adorable Newt Scamander, F/M, Hurt Newt Scamander, Lots of it, Not A Happy Ending, Young Newt Scamander, basically just emotional angst, minor mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23143723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironxprince/pseuds/ironxprince
Summary: Newt Scamander never liked people. He always kept his distance, and he's always preferred animals - until he meets someone who gives him feelings he's never felt before, turns his world upside down, and leaves him torn in two.
Relationships: Leta Lestrange/Newt Scamander
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Photographs (If Only I Could Go Back)

Newt Scamander never liked people.

It was nothing personal, really, nothing they’d ever done. It was all him. His choice to distance himself, his choice to stay away, because Newt was broken. He was damaged, and destroyed. He had been used once too many times, turned away quite a few more. He had given until he had no more, but others took anyway. And he let them. If he got too close to people… well, it would just end up hurting, in the end.

He never liked people.

Instead, he turned to animals. He supported them, and they remained by his side in return. He formed a family, away from judgement and abuse and politics and cruelty, and he was fine with it. He didn’t need people, anyway. He was perfectly fine on his own, with his creatures, and his own, personal, isolated adventures. No companions needed. Blissful… seclusion.

But he couldn’t stay alone forever.

When Newt made it to Hogwarts at the young age of eleven, he didn’t plan on making friends, on getting attached to have the ties severed again. He went to his classes, then straight back to his dorm, did his homework, then snuck up to the owlery, where new creatures awaited him every day. He was happy.

Second year rolled around. Newt was twelve. He didn’t know if he was still happy… but there was no reason for him  _ not  _ to be, so he was. He was isolated, like he wanted. He spoke to his creatures, and they didn’t answer in discernable ways… which was expected, because otherwise, they’d be human, and Newt didn’t want that. It was what he had always told himself. He barely spoke a word in his classes, he got good marks, and… and that was it. This was everything he wanted… right?

Then why did he feel so empty?

When Newt was thirteen, he realized something was wrong. Colour had faded, smiles were hard. His creatures made him chuckle, but it was fleeting, gone not long after under shadows of gloom. He ate half a plate full of food at meals, and his robes began to hang unnaturally off his shrinking frame. Something was wrong. Newt needed a change, he knew he did… but he didn’t know if he could achieve it. He had fallen into a pit. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to claw his way out.

Fourth year, things were beginning to get back on track. Newt found his voice. It was difficult at first, of course it was, but he forced himself to step out of his box. To  _ change _ . He refused to live in the dark anymore. He raised his hand in class, despite the prickles that ran up and down his spine. He forced himself to answer questions, to speak up over the sound of his racing heart, loud in his ears. He wiped away the sweat that would form at the back of his neck when the class’ attention was focused on him for too long. Every day, he forced himself through the torture - and it was a struggle. He forced himself to eat, he forced eye contact, no matter how  _ terrified  _ it made him. He made himself walk around the grounds of Hogwarts every day, no matter how often he feared he would collapse from mental exhaustion that manifested into physical. At the end of the day, his chest felt tight. His limbs were exhausted. Occasionally, tears would form.

But his mind would clear.

Age fifteen, fifth year. It was going to be a good year; Newt would make sure of it. He tried out for the Quidditch team, and, lo and behold, he made it as chaser for the Hufflepuffs. (Not too many people tried out.) Quidditch was difficult, and physically taxing, and Newt dreaded every single practise. But after the games, win or lose… he had  _ fun _ . He’d smile. Wind rushing past him as he raced back and forth across the field, it was  _ beautiful _ . He could play for hours. Already, fifth year was turning out great.

And then, he reached his Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Professor Dumbledore was great, encouraging and honest and fun and  _ understanding _ . Newt loved his class… but about a week into the school year, he got distracted.

There was a girl that always stood on the opposite side of the room from him, skin smooth like moonlight on a lake, hair like turbulent ripples that bubbled beneath the surface, eyes deep as the unseeable ocean floor. One day, Newt caught sight of her. He never looked away.

Everything he did in that class… changed. It revolved around  _ her _ . He tried to inch closer to her, to start conversations, but he never got close enough - or brave enough - to ask her to be his partner, whenever Dumbedore requested it. Every word he tried to speak to her was overpowered by her friends, telling jokes, making her laugh… and it was the most beautiful thing Newt had ever heard. It seemed to brighten the very world, to warm him down to his core. It escalated his heart beat, and all he could do was smile as he listened, sounding like… pure music.

Every spell he cast wasn’t without a glance toward her, seeing if she was watching, if she was impressed. She never looked, but he didn’t stop. He sought her gaze, constantly desiring those wide, intelligent eyes to be placed on him. He wanted to be the centre of her attention. He wanted to be the reason she smiled, he wanted to be the cause of her laugh. He wanted to be near her. He never wanted to be separated from her again.

One day, Newt looked at Leta.

She was looking back.

He smiled.

She did, too.

The world took on a new meaning. Colour was revitalized. Light was brighter, banishing all forms of darkness. Homework was done quickly, rash, in a haste to get to bed sooner, to fall asleep sooner, to wake up sooner, to see  _ her  _ sooner.

And it was worth it, every single day.

She was a vision, on both the days her hair was styled and on those she let it down, on the days she wore her green robes and on the ones she snuck a blue shirt underneath, or a deep yellow, unwanting, and unwilling, to buy into the house colours. If Leta wanted to wear something, she would. If she wanted to  _ be  _ something, she would. She was  _ herself _ . And she was kind, and funny, and compassionate, and honest, and Newt couldn’t get enough.

He tried to hold himself back, to stop himself from making a move.

One day, he couldn’t.

He couldn’t hold himself back. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t bear the thought of being away from her for one more day.

He approached her.

“Leta,” he said, voice trembling. She turned, eyes awaiting and patient, and Newt’s breath caught in his throat. It was like he was in third year again, speech coming with difficulty, breathing so very  _ painful _ . But he forged on. He had to. He wouldn’t,  _ couldn’t _ , live the lie anymore, the lie that everything was okay the way it was. He refused to hide from the truth.

“Leta, I… like… you.”

Leta leaned forward slightly, eyebrows raised, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “What was that? I’m sorry, Newt, I couldn’t hear….” She chuckled, and the sound gave Newt strength. “You’re so quiet. It’s a little cute, honest.”

A blush spread up Newt’s cheeks, and it felt warm. It felt good. He revelled in the feeling.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he said, louder. Leta smiled in appreciation. “You’re intelligent and very kind and… and I like you, Leta.”

For a moment Leta stood still, expression frozen, and Newt worried his bottom lip. Slowly, her expression morphed into a small, unsure smile… but Newt didn’t notice the lack of surety.

He never noticed the signs.

“You’re sweet,” she answered quietly, and Newt’s heart soared. “And you’re a really good guy, Newt, so… okay.”

Newt swallowed thickly. “Okay, what?”

“I won’t make you ask. I see your looks in class, and I… I understand what you’re looking for, so, yes. I’ll be your girlfriend, if that’s what you wish.”

Newt smiled so wide he feared his face would permanently remain that way. It certainly wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Okay,” she smiled back.

The following weekend, Newt was sitting under a tree on the Hogwarts grounds, his Herbology textbook open on his lap. He read the first sentence on the open page, then read it again, and again. He understood nothing, his mind on his conversation held just a few days before. He couldn’t contain his smile, and he couldn’t get his thoughts to focus on the present - blissfully so - until a shadow appeared over him. He looked up, and Leta was smiling down at him, the sun shining out from behind her like she was an angel from Newt’s dreams.

“It’s a nice day today,” she observed.

“Yes,” Newt agreed with a wide smile. “It is.”  _ And it just got better _ .

“I believe I’d like to take a stroll with my boyfriend.”

Newt’s heart stuttered in his chest. For a moment, he couldn’t answer. Leta laughed  _ (it sounded like honey and sugar and all things good, somehow) _ and offered him a hand.

“That’s you, Scamander.”

Newt took her hand and she pulled him up. He felt his hand shake within her grasp, and he was about to retract it when Leta grabbed it tighter and began to lead Newt away. He followed her without a thought, letting her lead the way, textbook lying forgotten on the ground behind them.  _ (Newt returned for it later. It was buried under leaves, covered half in mud, but he couldn’t care less.) _

Leta led them along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, tempting the boundaries just enough for her, while obeying the rules enough for Newt’s young, fragile nerves. Her compassion sent Newt to the moon, though his nerves were racing - and he couldn’t contain himself. He was anxious. He was  _ terrified _ .

Newt rambled.

He spoke of all the creatures he knew of, the ones he had seen, the ones he hadn’t yet, the ones that lived in the Forest, the ones that lived off the grounds of Hogwarts that he wished to see one day. Leta looked at him as he spoke, her eyes searching for his no matter how determinedly he looked away with anxiety. She gave him her full attention, and she smiled, and she laughed, and she commented, and Newt loved the feeling of his hand in hers, though he wasn’t sure how to intertwine their fingers to make it work, how close they had to walk together to be comfortable.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t overthink it. He didn’t worry. He assumed… well, worrying made one suffer twice, didn’t it?

They were silent for minutes at a time, walking in harmony, in perfect comfort, until they found a clear patch. They sat, facing the forest, Leta never once pulling her hand away. She leaned in closer, resting her head on his shoulder, and Newt had to fight to keep his breathing steady, eyes too full of a rosy haze to focus on the things that would usually catch his interest, the sounds of pattering paws in the forest, the occasional shaking of bushes he would usually love to investigate. Instead, he released his hand from Leta’s.

She began to pull away.

Before she could, Newt placed a hand around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

His hand was trembling, sure, and his heart was beating so loud, it was a miracle she couldn’t hear it. But she just smiled, and leaned into him.

Newt was happy.

Until one day, he wasn’t.

That was one day - one  _ glorious  _ day, but only one, nonetheless. Weeks passed… and Leta never gave him another speck of her attention.

Newt tried, he really did. He stood beside her; she didn’t look at him. He reached for her hand; she pretended she didn’t notice, turned her head, and stepped aside.

She didn’t speak to him.

Until one day, she did.

She caught Newt on their way out of the classroom after Defence Against the Dark Arts. She looked back at him, hinting that he should follow - and he did, heart sinking in his chest. He didn’t know what was coming, exactly, but he could guess. The lack of attention, the refusal to meet his gaze.

Newt could guess what was coming.

And he prayed he was wrong.

“You’re sweet, Newt,” Leta began quietly as they stepped out of the castle, and Newt was brought back to the day he confessed to her, the day, the  _ one day _ , he opened up. But today, she wasn’t looking at him, unlike that day of their walk. It was like she was consciously choosing not to. She refused to.

“You’re sweet, and I don’t want to hurt you. I never did. But, Newt….” She stopped and turned, putting a hand on his shoulder. Newt stopped, facing forward, eyes on the ground, refusing to turn, refusing to look. He didn’t want to see her eyes, her eyes deep as the lake, he remembered himself once thinking, looking so apologetic. This was his final chance to… to rekindle what had been so clearly evident on their walk around the grounds, what he knew they could regain. If she just didn’t say the words-

“I don’t have feelings for you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I… I never did.”

Newt’s heart felt like it was tearing itself in half, scattering pieces throughout his chest, pain spreading further and further until it created a heat behind his eyes, until it began to form a pounding headache.

“Newt, please….” Leta stepped in front of him, and it was the perfect chance for her to reach for his face, his shoulders, his hands, a chance to comfort him - but she did nothing of the sort. She wanted to keep that line, the boundary, clear. She didn’t want to make this harder than it had to be.

Newt wished she would. He wanted her to make it hard. He wanted her to make him scream and cry and release this pent up emotion in his chest and he wanted her to keep talking because he loved her voice and maybe he could prolong this, if for an instant, but he wanted her to stop because he couldn’t bear to hear it and he didn’t want her to say it but he needed to hear the words and he needed to know  _ why _ -

“I’m sorry, Newt, I didn’t want to hurt you,” she whispered. “It was why I said  _ yes _ . I thought, I thought maybe I could…  _ feel  _ something. Because I wanted to, you don’t know how much I wanted to. You’re kind and smart and cute and sweet and I thought, I thought maybe I could make you happy….” She shook her head, looking down. “But I couldn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t…  _ deserve  _ this, you deserve  _ better _ -”

“There’s nothing better than you, Leta.” He met her gaze for just a second, blinking back tears, before shifting his gaze to the offensively bright blue sky to the right. “You  _ were  _ what I deserved.”

“No.” She smiled, shaking her head. “I know… I know you’ll find someone better, someone that you deserve, someone that will make you happy. And… and I’m so sorry it couldn’t be me.” She took a step back. “I wanted it to be.”

Newt didn’t move his gaze from the slowly passing clouds as she stepped back, as she moved slowly away back up to the dorms. Newt didn’t move. He stood still. Clouds moved, people came and went. He didn’t move.

Newt’s chest… it  _ hurt _ . He had never felt this before. There was a pressure, building up his throat, compressing, getting tighter… he couldn’t  _ breathe _ .

And then, he sobbed.

Tears began to flow without warning as he took a step forward, not knowing where he was going, but knowing he had to leave  _ here _ . He walked, slowly as he cried, and then his footsteps picked up, growing faster and faster until he was running, until sobs mixed with struggling breaths, until his vision began to grow darker with a mix of tears blurring his vision of the darkened woods he was running toward.

The Forbidden Forest, the place that had given him so many incorrect beliefs, so many false hopes… so much  _ happiness _ . Happiness that was now crushed, that left him feeling trampled beneath Leta’s feet, her words leaving a heavy pressure on his shoulders.

Maybe he should go into the Forbidden Forest. No student knew what was in there. He had his guesses, of course, and nothing was good. Everything in there was dangerous, disastrously so - but maybe that was what he needed.

Newt had to get out of here. He couldn’t handle the rest of fifth year, or the sixth, or the seventh. He had to leave. He had to enter the forest… to meet new creatures, or to let them have their way with him. Fate could decide. He didn’t have the strength to.

Cheeks wet with tears, hair tangled from the wind, fingers trembling at his sides, and a pain in his chest so intense he couldn’t  _ breathe _ , Newt stepped into the forest to begin his new life.

He never looked back.

Newt Scamander never liked people.


End file.
